


Humor Me

by forthegreatergood



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-24 07:49:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20702462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forthegreatergood/pseuds/forthegreatergood
Summary: Living with the Serpent of Eden comes with certain risks.





	Humor Me

**Author's Note:**

> All characters property of Terry Pratchett, Neil Gaiman, and the respective production and licensing companies.

Aziraphale blinked as a great shadow enveloped him entirely, plunging him into darkness just as the detective in his latest novel was about to reveal the murderer. He sighed and looked up from the book, resisting the impulse to run his fingers through the starling-black feathers forming a large canopy around his favorite chair.

“Bored, dear?” Aziraphale asked, taking his glasses off and slipping them into his pocket. He looked up to find Crowley smirking down at him, arms crossed over the back of the chair and chin resting on the dubious cushion of his wrists. “Or is there a specific reason you’re revisiting the ninth plague of Egypt?”

Crowley snorted. “Even you can’t get lost in a book for three days straight, angel.”

“Not with you around.”

“I was simply testing a hypothesis.” Crowley’s smirk turned purposeful.

He didn’t retract his wings, and Aziraphale tried not to think of the how much the light coming in through the gap between Crowley’s head and the blades of Crowley’s wings resembled a halo. He marked his page and set the book aside, then folded his hands in his lap. There’d be no peace until he humored the demon.

“Do tell,” Aziraphale said.

“Well, I read that parakeets and so forth do this rather ingenious thing, if you put a cover over their cages.”

“I see.” Aziraphale gave him a long look, and Crowley’s smile showed a few more teeth.

“They say to themselves, well, it’s dark out, might as well chuck it in and go to sleep.”

“Mm.” Aziraphale laced his fingers together and wished he hadn’t taken his glasses off so quickly. This seemed like it was going to be the sort of conversation where he’d need a few points of quiet emphasis, and Crowley had started him off in a position where he had precious few to reach for that wouldn’t be painfully contrived. “And you formed a hypothesis, did you, from that bit of information?”

“Well, I thought if it works so well on budgerigars…” Crowley tilted his head, and the false halo turned into more of a crescent, like they’d decorated the odd goddess with back in Mesopotamia. “...might work on birds of paradise, too, mightn’t it?”

Aziraphale blinked at him, a great deal more slowly this time, and Crowley’s smile softened at the edges.

“You know, dear--”

“Mm?” Crowley lifted his head, interlaced his fingers, and set his chin back down on his hands, and Aziraphale grimaced at the imitation. But Crowley’s eyes were fond, and he seemed more affectionate than mocking, and Aziraphale supposed there were simply a few things one had to expect, living with a demon.

“If you want company while you nap, you could simply ask,” Aziraphale said mildly.

Crowley raised his eyebrows, and he grinned. “So an artificial removal of all light sources does induce the urge to sleep. Interesting.”

Aziraphale glowered at him.

“Fortunately, I made the bed into a reasonable size before beginning the experiment, so…” Crowley leaned down, his wings tightening, and kissed Aziraphale’s forehead. “Plenty of room for two. Very convenient, if I do say so myself.”

“Suspiciously so,” Aziraphale said, catching him by his now-dangling scarf. Aziraphale could only imagine the chaos Crowley had caused in his tiny bedroom, miracling the bed from wall to wall or some such nonsense. Aziraphale tugged him down a bit further and brushed a soft kiss across his lips. “Almost as if a certain serpent’s up to his old tricks again.”

Crowley flicked the air with a thin, forked tongue, then smirked. “Maybe, if you ask very nicely.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and let go of the scarf. How Crowley could make such an abundance of vanity and pride seem charming, he was sure he’d never know. He picked up his book.

“All right, love. Lead the way.”

He couldn’t help but brush his fingertips over the edge of Crowley’s wing as he furled them, and Crowley looked unduly pleased with himself for getting his way in such a small thing. But then, Aziraphale supposed, it hadn’t been so long ago that simply sitting down and having lunch together required two alternate locations and an extraction plan. 

He got to his feet and offered Crowley his hand, and Crowley didn’t hesitate to grab him by the wrist and pull him toward the back staircase, his smile ridiculously triumphant. Aziraphale felt an answering smile blossom across his own face; the absurdities he’d put up with just to see Crowley happy simply didn’t bear mentioning.


End file.
